Behind the Scenes Brittana
by BrittaniSlay
Summary: Justice for Brittana and all they could have been.
1. purpose

Random episodes where Brittana said one-liners that we _wish_ the writers could have elaborated on. Or just some lines that I thought would make great backstories for them. Honestly they could have had so much more done for them and their storylines, and I intend on commenting on almost all of them.

Hope you guys like it!

-BSL


	2. sexy

" _I haven't been feeling very sexy lately"_

Santana was about to object and list for her all the reasons the she lies awake at night clutching her phone at her chest, the glow of their text conversations illuminating her dark bedroom. Tell her about how the dancer can make her heart race with just  
a glance, a smile, a _breath._

Well, not in so many words anyway, a simple "you're the sexiest person I've ever known" would have sufficed. Before she could open her mouth however—

 _"I think I have a bud in the oven"_

Everything just happens so fast. She vaguely remembers replying a mumbled and confused response that nowhere _near_ matched the dizziness she was suddenly feeling. There were now two of Brittany and they both said something along the lines of "not  
telling Artie" as Santana mumbled some kind of answer in response. Both Brittanys turned to walk away as Santana pushed herself off of the locker she's relied on for stability in the past two minutes.

 _This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Hell, this wasn't anywhere in the cards. She was giving me time and I know I'm scared shitless but I should've said something sooner but now I can't say anything at all because she's going to have to stay with Stubby McCripplepants for the rest of her life. All because…because—_

"Oh my god, Brittany's pregnant" and _no_ she hadn't meant to say it out loud and with such ferocity but come _on._ What were the odds that someone was walking right next to her as her thoughts took purchase of her tongue and forced the words  
out of her mouth. As she expected, word traveled fast. _Really_ fast.

After what _had_ to have been a heart attack subsided in the Choir Room,the brunette learned that Brittany wasn't actually pregnant. Leave it to Britt to think storks delivered babies to her doorstep. Some would call it naïve but Santana never  
looked at Brittany as anyone other than brilliant. She saw Brittany as innocent. Untouched from the brashness and horrible truth of the world.

She saw the way people looked at Brittany when one of her famous one-liners filled the air, the way they'd muffle their laughter because _oh my god here she goes again_ but Santana knew. She knew how that beautiful mind worked, and she just so happened  
to know that that particular blonde mind was exceptional. Just not in McKinley High. This place isn't good enough for her. Santana knew that no one here besides herself understood how to respond to Brittany when she said these things. They didn't  
know that when she talks about Lord Tubbington she's trying to connect with people. They didn't know her mumbles of confusion meant that the math in class was simply too easy for her. She could get from point A to point B without all the letters and  
numbers—they just showed up for her.

No one knew these things. No one besides Santana.

" _Hit It!"_

'Do You Want to Touch Me' started playing and the two best friends agreed to help Ms. Holliday out with the dance. It was pretty obvious to Santana. _An opportunity to grind and roll with Britt? Come on I'm not stupid._ The Latina knew she was hot,  
and she wasn't afraid to show everyone what they couldn't have; she was classy like that. So obviously she agreed to dance the number because it would also mean when they rehearsed the bell before she would get to ask Britt how _exactly_ to  
roll her body and where _exactly_ to place her hands. Sure, they needed a little… _guidance_ along the way, but hey it's a learning opportunity! Glimpses of skin were stolen, stares of rolling abs and flashing blue eyes with whipping blonde  
hair.

 _Dear God,_ she thought.

 _I'm so screwed._


	3. michael jackson

To this day she doesn't know why she backtracked her steps when she saw a lonesome Kurt Toothless Hummel, but instead of continuing to walk to her next class, she walks in and asks him, "What're you doing?" as the tiny bitchy self-centered voice in her head hysterically bottoms up. (She's trying to do better about the whole "caring friend" and "good girlfriend" thing.)

He's clearly as surprised as Santana, because he looks at her with that look he gives Brittany when she says something he doesn't get or when Puckerman makes a lewd comment toward a revealing skirt in the hallway before reluctantly replying. _Well, might as well tell someone, I guess._

"I'm with Artie. I'm tired of being nice. I take a lot of crap from a lot of people, but I refuse to take it from Sebastian the Criminal Chipmunk." Santana is impressed with the improvised nickname, not thinking that the offensive side of battle would be Kurt's forte but before she can react he continues and says, "So, I've been sitting here for the last hour, making lists of ways to get back at him." And it's probably the most _Santana_ thing that has ever or will ever leave Lady Hummel's seemingly hyaluronic acid lip-injected lips, and suddenly she's feeling in her element. A refreshing feeling, really.

She figured since his boyfriend is visually crippled at the moment and since Blaine's presence was the only thing keeping Jimmy Fallon's butch daughter from dramatically sighing from his/her lack of solos in glee, that he'd need a pick-me-up. But instead of reverting to his pre-Blaine persona, he simply sulked around and uttered a total amount of zero words during all of glee. And though she would never be caught dead admitting it aloud, she really did enjoy the sometimes physical atmosphere of glitter and glamour that came with being within a five foot radius of Kurt, and it didn't make her always want to off herself when he so obviously gave his best gay-glare at anyone with polyester and orange at the same time. They were friends. She also understood the helpless feeling you get when the person you care most about—love—is hurting and there's nothing you can do to stop it. All too well.

"Well, today's your lucky day because Auntie Snixx just arrived on the bitch-town express. Now, my suggestion is that we drag him bound and gagged to a tattoo parlor for a tramp stamp that reads "Tips Appreciated" or "Congratulations you're my thousandth customer". What she told herself she was doing was just making friendly conversation, or at least she was trying. But she was really just trying out this whole "being a friend" thing. And not the blatantly honest friend that tells you when your cellulite is showing, but the kind that doesn't tell you and just "supports you", however moronic that may seem. She really does care about Lady Spice and the rest of Glee Club whether she'll admit it to anyone or not (which she won't unless you're a certain dancing blonde who gets strangely turned on when Santana's mushy).

Kurt doesn't catch the attempt of odd banter, too caught up in his world of grief and vengeance to look too into Santana's intentions.

"After what he did to Blaine, I really wanted to hurt him, but I can't. I've fought against violence at this school for too long. I-I have to take the high road."

Now, the feisty Latina isn't one to be impressed by many people, especially the ones that she occasionally loathes, but after all Kurt has been through; the bullying, the transferring, his dad's surgery, his run for presidency, and then his dad's candidacy? She's surprised, no—amazed—that he hasn't used all that anger, all that loss and lashed out at everyone and anyone in his way. How he's still willing to take the peaceful road, and at that she can't help but think of Brittany. It's exactly what she would do.

So, in an attempt to actually help her very gay and very distressed friend, she thinks WWSD.

What Would Santana Do.

If Brittany had taken the slushee to the face for her like Santana knew her girlfriend would, she'd like to think she'd murder the cretin that is Sebastian Smythe right on the spot by taking his horse teeth in hand and personally shoving them up his well bleached asshole, but in reality, she knows she'd be too worried over the well-being of Brittany to focus on anything else. Then she'd murder him. And then she'd be in jail and getting her college education from the she-man cell mate that oddly resembles one Dave Karofsky she's bound to have.

With her newfound motivation to firmly shove her gay foot up that gay Warbler's tailfeathered ass, she goes with what she does best to help her friend, honesty.

"You know what prancy smurf I respect that. You're probably right. I wanna go to a college that isn't a FEMA trailer in a prison yard so, let's take the high road. We're not gonna beat Sebastian by playing dirty…but we are gonna beat him."

So that's how she got here, dressed to the nines in some weird ass all-boy all-queer sad excuse of a mid-western Hogwarts that vaguely smells like hair gel and off-Broadway reruns of Kinky Boots. She's just here to get him to admit what he put in the slushee but then he takes her (let's face it, not her best) insult to heart and gets offended when she calls him a liar of all things that just came out of her mouth. He accuses her of "questioning his honor" which is probably the 70's white ass prep boy school shit she's ever heard, but she goes along with it because she really wants to get her Michael on.

"I demand satisfaction in Warbler tradition"

Barely holding herself back from letting her eyes roll out of her head and onto the floor, she bites.

"You wanna have a duel?"

He does, and they do. As expected she literally sings circles around the lanky Peter Pan production reject (and firmly kicks his ass by the way) before he admits to putting rock salt in the slushee he threw at Blaine. And she's about to unveil her top-knotch secret plan completely out of pride because this white private school fucker who's done nothing but damage to her friends thinks he's about to get away with everything he's done, but then she's slusheed. Fucking slusheed. And it goes into her bra and it's sticky and it smells for the rest of the day but she can't help but feel like she's finally accomplished something.

"Um… what's going on?"

Everyone walks into the room quickly and takes their place as Santana's buzzing with the excitement of using her powers for good and the pride she gets to take because of it and ushers her friends into their seats as she takes center stage—or room. She kind of feels like some sexy double o-seven with all this planning and secret meeting and plotting.

"We've got the Warblers right where we want them. And because he's the smoothest criminal I know, Artie was able to find a spy store that sells top-secret surveillance equipment."

"Not top-secret I just got a tape recorder from Office Max."

"Okay okay whatever. In any case, I taped it to my underboob when we went to Dalton, and I got Sebastian on tape admitting that there was rock-salt in that slushee that blinded Blaine. Now, all we have to do is send this tape to the po-po, and that little bitchlet is headed to juvie."

She played it back. She's ready for the applause and the pats on the back, and even prepares herself for the onslaught of kisses she'll receive from her girlfriend but all the preparation is cut short by the high pitched nasally voice that occasionally haunts her dreams.

"No. No we're not doing that."

After their conversation? Really?

"Why? Kurt this isn't violent this is clever. I taped it to my under boob."

"So he gets kicked out of school. The Warblers still do Michael, and they still beat us. Look, I want to see Sebastian's head turning on a spit, but I've realized that you can't go looking for payback every time the world wrongs you. If Michael went after all the haters…" and he continues to ramble on about how he thinks he's saved the Glee Club even though Santana has offered to help in numerous ways. She puts the tape away begrudgingly and she's a little bummed because yeah, she was looking forwards to everyone finally realizing her allegiance to Glee Club and that they might have caught on that she actually cares about them in her cold cold heart. Before she knows it, the lunch bell is ringing and everyone's getting up to leave the room.

"Wait, if Kurt would have taped this to his junk, I would have never heard the end of it. We would have a whole week of songs about it."

Brittany shushes her as they fall in tow with the others, "I know, I know". They continue to walk down the hallway and Santana's head is hung low for a second in resignation.

"You know, I'm really proud of you." Her head shoots up and she questioningly looks at her girlfriend. "You went out of your way to help Kurt. You even bought a hot gangsta hat and got slusheed for him." Santana sent her a small smile before resuming her counting of the floor tiles.

They keep walking for another minute before she continues, "I know you're trying to prove to them that you care. I mean, after last year…" she pauses. Something around Santana's heart constricts at the mention of last year and all that those two words imply. Everything that she messed up. Without thinking she pulls Brittany into an empty classroom and begins to interject with the blonde's name but her girlfriend ignores her and continues.

"I know you want to make it better, and you're working on it in your own way and not everyone can see that, but I can. I do." Brittany is earnestly trying to tell Santana what she's been telling her for three years. Santana had been too blindsided by the incessant need to keep her private life and her school life separate to be able to hear her. Santana is _enough_.

"I know you do Britt, I know. But—I just, I've been such a horrible friend to all of them, especially Kurt, I mean I made a gay joke to him last week! I'm gay! How do I even do that? How can you want to be with someone like me? And I mean sure he just brushes it off now as a harmless joke but I'm _really_ trying and it makes me so _mad_ that it's basically second nature for me. Not even second nature more like firs-" Santana is cut off mid-ramble by her girlfriend's lips which Santana can tell are sporting a small amused smile.

"San, you can keep going on the valiant crusades to win back everyone's heart, but you don't need to try with me anymore. I'm _yours,_ and you're _mine_. You've never needed to prove yourself to me." The smaller girl's heart swells three times it's natural size (and she's positive of this because Brittany told her that her heart is so big that when it gets all lovey that it completely fills up with love and gets three times bigger to make up for her being three inches shorter than Britt).

"And as for everyone else, I don't think you've been a horrible friend to them. You might not notice it but you stick up for them when they can't do it themselves. Remember Blaine, Kurt, and Karofsky? And the razor blades? And what about Sebastian this week? Shitty friends don't do that for other people, _amazing_ ones do. And I mean, no surprise there because you're the most amazing person in the entire world—even Tubbs agrees."

Santana giggles at the mention of the overweight and over domesticated animal and is calm again. She sighs and lovingly looks at her girlfriend.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

"Hm. Yeah you do, all the time."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"I dunno, refresh my memory?"

"I love you, Britt-Britt."  
"I love you too MJ"


End file.
